Ultraviolet: Codename S.P.E.C.I.A.L

Author's notes: Ok, I know what you're thinking: wasn't the story completed? Yes, I said so myself, that the main story of Ultraviolet was completed. Like the specials you get in a DVD, this post-story extra will cover the backstory of the Specialists as well as some other content that has been rotting away in the back of my folder. Expect about ten chapters (I haven't decided how much I want to write yet), in addition to some edits from the previous chapters. Author notes from chapter 1 to 20 has been removed, and end notes have been replaced with a trivia section, which I hope will allow readers to understand exactly what went into the story, and what didn't.

In case you're thinking this is just a regular side-story, it's not. The ending will tie in with my future-future story (whose preview will not be released here yet). It's still kept under wraps, but it'll be ready as soon as I get some ideas. In the meantime, do read this story and review if possible. It's really just a collation of side stories that will hopefully explain their motives, goals, motivations etc…

The Incredibles section is kinda slow these days… Everyone out there… Update!

This chapter will be a long one; you have been warned…

Chapter 21

Codename S.P.E.C.I.A.L

The mansion was probably abandoned more than ten years ago, after its owners vanished without a trace, and banks failed to acquire it legally. It now stands as a monument, somewhat a playground for children when they want to spook themselves, or for paranormal investigation squads to explore. At this moment, bathed in moonlight, the house was now a temporary shelter for a certain group of Supers.

Through the eyes of Lance, also known as Heatseeker, the mansion interior was nothing more than patches of blue or green. There was little to find, even in the bedrooms. The refrigerator was a spawning ground for bacteria; the couch was covered in moss and the bathrooms were perpetually flooded up to ankle height. This place was so far from home.

In his mind he could still remember the burning central command room, and the orange flames that were imprinted in the back of his mind. It had, after all, been a part of his home, as it has been for the past seventeen years. He'd never expect what it was like to be driven away from home… except the same thing had happened to him when he was three.

Lance rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the blur forming in his eyes. Was it normal for a three-year-old to start losing his sight? He'll ask Mom when she awakens, and if she were in a good mood… or else he'd be in for a night of beating again.

The child got up to his feet, taking a few cautious steps to prove that he wasn't going blind. His tiny feet brought him to the kitchen, and as he stepped on the linoleum, there was a moment of darkness. Stumbling on his unstable legs, Lance lay sprawled on the floor as his sight returned. His sigh of relieve was punctured by muffled sobs. Tears were running down his cheeks now. In reflex he raised his fingers up to his eyes, brushing away the tears.

When he opened his eyes the world was dark again. Blinking in rapid succession, Lance tried to shake it off like the previous time. It had to work… He couldn't be blind… He was just a kid…

As his eyelids shut and opened, he realised that he was gaining a new form of sight. The wooden kitchen counter was now a deep shade of green; the toaster was dark blue and as he looked at his feet, he could see a trail of his footprints in shades of orange and yellow. In fact, as he held his arms up, the whole length of it appeared orange, as though he has jaundice or some form of strange illness. Yet he knew, in his heart, that this wasn't due to his body, but rather his eyesight.

All these were too strange for him to handle. He took a few steps and bumped into the fridge, shortly after he backed up against the kitchen counter. Looking up, he saw a swirl of red and orange, and reached out for it…

The trickle of warm water spilled all over Lance's limbs, sending a searing pain all over his body. The pain was too much to bear, and his wails echoed through the entire house…

The response was almost instantaneous: Lance's mother stepped out of her room, holding a leather belt. Even though all he could see was an orange figure approaching him, he would remember the pain for the rest of his life.

"Wretched child… Why did I even give birth to you in the first place?" Between her sentences, she swung the belt like a whip down on the three-year-old. "You've brought nothing but trouble… Scalding yourself… Think I can afford your medical fees now?" The child was crying now, the whip breaching his tolerance for pain as it lashed on his scald wounds. "I should have abandoned you…"

And so she did. Even without the blindfold, he wouldn't be able to recognise the way back home, as his mother sped away in the taxi. The setting sun was his only form of company as he crouched down on the same spot he alighted, occasionally seeing a passing car in the form of an orange streak.

It must have been three, maybe four hours, until the sounds of approaching feet got his attention. A wave of hope mixed with despair washed over him. What if it was his mother again?

"Hello, kid." It was a man. "You're Lance, right? Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

For the three-year-old Lance, there really wasn't a choice. He didn't even have the courage to resist the older man's hand as he held Lance's tiny fist. Under his firm grip, Lance felt his trembling hand…

Lance continued down the hallway and back to the second-floor staircase landing. His 'reconnaissance' round was now complete. Satisfied, he turned to face the dark stairs and placed one hand on its railing in reflex.

"Come, Lance."

The five-year old scrambled up from his seat, searching for his adoptive father before detecting his presence near the stairs. His new sight has taken some time to get used to, but with his father's guidance, he was already moderately proficient in his powers. He can navigate through a room filled with obstacles alone, and can differentiate between some common household objects.

"Yes, father?" The boy asked as he peered up his father.

"Look what I've made for you."

Lance watched on as his father reached out and placed his hand on the stair railing. For a few seconds nothing happened, then like a set of magical stairs, the steps lit up, showing up in Lance's sight as separate yellow blocks rather than a mass of blue.

"Go on, try it."

With his father's encouragement, Lance raised his foot onto the first step. Then, the next step came just as easily. He found that as long as his hand was on the railing, it could guide him up the stairs like a normal human would.

"This is great, father! I can finally climb the stairs by myself now…"

The past two years had changed Lance, both in his mentality and learning methods. He was no longer the naïve young child who can be dumped by his mother at will; he was learning to be independent. He wanted to be independent. Then he'll only be with those he can trust. Like his father.

At the same time, he can't rely on pencil-and-paper methods to learn anymore (the pencil lines can't show up in his heat-detecting vision). He had to use a writing pad, which heated up when used with a special pen, to write on. Everything he did had to be modified in one way or another, from the way he ate to the way he used the bathroom.

The next few years of his childhood were a continued process to readapt to his new form of sight. Thus began the young boy's journey to become a leader…

"You gonna walk down, or what?" Lance's head jerked up, but that was hardly necessary. On the landing below was Serena. He forced a smile, knowing that she will get the message and leave him alone. The recent events had dug up plenty of memories, and he's not exactly in the mood to share. It seemed as though Serena understood, but even she knew how to push Lance at times. "Thinking about something?" Lance tried to avoid the question, hurrying down a few steps before giving up.

"Do you remember… before all this things started… what your life was like? I mean, your family, siblings…"

"Who do you think you're asking? Of course I remember, up to the point when I was born. But why bring up the past?" Serena skipped up the remaining few steps to join Lance midway up the stairs.

"Nothing, really… I was just thinking," he replied, not really revealing anything in particular. "I still remember when father first brought you in…"

"Lance, would you mind coming up to the heli-pad now?"

Lance was used to hearing instructions from the hidden speakers, for it was by far the easiest and most reliable method to communicate with each other on their island base. Getting up to the heli-pad itself was a totally different story. For a while Lance was obsessed with memorising his way through the base, with the winding tunnels and numerous rooms, until he could navigate through the base without any help.

"Let's see… Right turn, two flights of stairs, take the lift up, turn left and the door should be right… there!"

He emerged from the dark interior of the base to the much brighter rooftop, where everything had been bathed in the warm afternoon sun. In his mind he was already guessing what his father wanted him up here. Perhaps he was going to teach him to pilot the helicopter, or maybe they were going to the mainland for that geography field trip he promised…

"Here, Lance."

He turned towards the sound of his father's voice, noticing immediately the helicopter and its massive frame. His father was standing about fifty feet away from him, and as Lance ran up to him he saw that his father was not alone.

The girl stood no taller than his father's waist height, clutching a doll of sorts in her hands. She was sniffling every now and then, accompanied by her wiping away her tears. Just who was she? Lance wondered to himself.

"Lance, this is Serena. Serena, meet Lance. You can consider yourselves siblings from now on."

Lance was transfixed on the girl. She was now his sister? He had never wondered what it was like to have a sibling… The girl, Serena, was still crying…

"Lance, I'll meet you down at your room after I show Serena around."

Nodding, Lance watched on as his father led Serena towards the entrance back into the base. He followed closely behind, turning left at the next split that leads to his room.

He plopped down on his bed, waiting for his father like he was told to.

"That was such a long time ago… I was barely six back then."

Serena took a long pause, and Lance understood why. While Lance was from a broken family, Serena's was almost perfect. They were well to do, had a nice house and a loving family. Upon learning about Serena's amazing ability to remember almost everything she was exposed to, her parents were scheming to exploit her 'genius abilities', to make her famous, then live off her fame. Father had saved her from that fate, but Lance knew that Serena still missed her parents.

'Well, don't harp on it," Lance assured. "Go have a look around upstairs and find a place to settle down for the night; we still have a long journey to go."

Serena nodded, ascending the flight of stairs within a few lunges, while Lance carried on blindly to the kitchen area.

Lance was alone once again. He shook off the feeling of loneliness, which he had trained himself to do whenever he had such a sensation. He was with his family, at least his half-family, and that was enough to comfort him. There was only one difference: their father wasn't with them. He just drove them out, like he didn't want them anymore.

Yes, he remembered his father telling them that if they failed him, they were out of the team. Of course, the team was sufficiently trained, and they haven't failed a mission before, so why did they…

He paused, struck by a familiar sensation of Ken's time manipulation. Despite the restraints against him, he dove to his right, driving his full body weight into the wall as a figure sailed overhead, rolling on the floor as he landed.

The 'assailant' climbed to his feet, muttering, "I just can't pull it off on you… Leader."

"I'm more alert than you think," Lance said with a hearty laugh. Ken, the third member of the Specialist, turned to face his fellow Specialist as Lance swept the dust off his suit.

"I haven't tried to do that since my first year… it was kinda fun back then…"

"Yeah, you were down right rebellious back then… until father shared with us the vision he had…"

The clock struck four, marking the end of combat lessons for the four young Supers. Fourteen-year-old Lance had seen many changes to his life, after Ken joined them three years ago and Anna, about a year ago. The last day of the year was drawing to a close, but they still had one more meeting back at base in an hour's time.

The group took the long walk back as a time to bond as a team, and in a way to know more about one another. By then they considered themselves as real siblings; there really wasn't anything they didn't know about each other.

"I've said it many times, why do we have to have lessons right up to the end of the year, without even a break in between? I mean, everyone's read about how the kids back there have winter breaks and stuff, but we don't even have a holiday to speak of. That's not fair to us, is it?"

"Ken, you've got nothing to do even if we had a break; you're not allowed off the island. So what do you need a break for?"

"I don't know… I just think we should have a break anyway. Just for a day or two…"

The main building of the island base loomed into sight, about four hundred metres from their current position. The chattering went on until they reached a side entrance, and as they passed into the interior, they fell into hushed silence. As they have discovered on individual occasions, the enclosed base made their echoed voices much louder than usual.

Their father was waiting in the meeting room, staring at each of the Supers in turn as they settled in their favourite seats around the round table. As soon as they were seated, their attention was focused on their father.

"Each of you were brought here under different circumstances, but all of you had to be separated from your family shortly before you left. I promised a new family for you, one that understands you, and you agreed to join me. But, I never told you the real reason for your being here. Why did I bring four Supers from across the country to this island, for you to develop your powers?" He paused as the younger Supers pondered about the question. Sure enough, none of them had thought about this. Maybe they've already adapted to this new environment so well that there was no need to…

"Take a look at this and you'll understand why."

The lights dimmed and the screen lit up, revealing an emblem consisting of a snake coiled around four daggers arranged in a cross. There was a motto inscribed below in Latin, which roughly translates to: 'The future is ours to make.' The emblem faded away, as the word SPECIAL appeared in its place, and the following words fanned out from the respective acronym:

Strength

Power

Endurance

Confidence

Intelligence

Agility

Leadership

The video rolled on, now showing footage of other Supers in action, often saving haphazard citizens from the most mundane of incidences: falling bricks, out-of-control vehicles, street muggers… In most cases the police were unable to do anything, merely standing by the side to congratulate the Supers as they strutted in arrogance.

Everything was thinking the same thing, but only Father voiced it out. "Humans are weak."

There were also Supers facing villains, with a rare case of them actually losing. The villains themselves were locked up in prisons, until they escape to again wreck havoc. The presentation ended when the words 'What can you do?' flashed onscreen.

The lights resumed to maximum brightness as the Supers looked at each other. The video showed a side of Supers they had rarely seen: what made heroes and villains different were merely the side they took; basically they were all Supers.

"The war between heroes and villains had started since their existence. How do you think we can change that? Serena?"

"What do you mean 'we?' We're going to go destroy them all?" Ken interrupted before anyone could speak. "Then how different are we from villains?"

"When you think of the word 'villain', what comes to mind? Anna?"

"World domination?" Anna replied hesitantly.

"And how do they go about doing it?" Before she could reply, he had already given the answer. "Villains can't triumph because of their common flaw: they can't work together. Heroes fight for what they claim to be 'justice', which is a common goal for them. We belong to neither side; just to… change the world."

The plan was laid out as such: Break up the Superheroes' unity, allow other villains to take over the world, then claim it from them one at a time. In this way, they only had one threat to deal with at any time, rather than declaring enemies against both heroes and villains. That meant they had to help the villains win, in any way possible…

Through the next few years, the four young Supers would become the team known as the Specialists…

The vision… it held the team through the toughest of training, in hopes of becoming the elite team by their father's side.

"I'm going outside," Lance muttered, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder. His brother nodded, allowing him to pass. As Lance pushed aside the rotting wooden door leading to the exterior, Ken headed back towards the mansion interior.

The back yard was practically empty, with the exception of the dried-out pool. Somehow that wasn't what Lance had in mind; he needed a walk to clear his mind… and he knew just where to go.

The gate was hidden amid the bushes, but Lance spotted it with ease. Beyond it was a forest of sorts, waiting to be explored. There wasn't anything else to do anyway, Lance told himself, as he reached out to unlock the gate.

The thick undergrowth provided little resistance for Lance; he had navigated through terrain much worse than this back on the island. Soon he was sprinting between the trees, ignoring the flies that swarmed around him.

It was at least five minutes later when he finally willed himself to stop. Deep inside, he knew that he was running away from his fears… fears he was not allowed to show as a leader. Leaning beside the nearest tree, he slid to the forest floor as he bowed down in shame, chiding himself for letting his weakness show, even though he was alone. He just couldn't live with it…

The sounds of foliage being disturbed brought him back to reality. Something was near… stalking him maybe? Perhaps his father's minions had caught up to them, and were gathering to take them out once and for all… Either way Lance was going to put an end to it. His hands slid down to his waist where his handguns rested; with his right thumb he dislodged one of them from its clip and felt its familiar grip in his fingers. This weapon was heavily modified for his use; he can't even remember when he started using it, way before Serena came.

The shooting range was the latest addition to their island home, located just a few tunnels down from Lance's bedroom. Lance was first brought there after he had got the hang of navigating through the base interior. He could remember the wide selection of weapons there, but first he had to start from the basics.

His father bent down in order to place the handgun in his tiny hands, smiling as Lance struggled under its weight. "You'll get used to it soon," he had said with a laugh.

The concept of the 'game', as he was told, was to pull the trigger as soon as he saw the orange targets. The innocent boy, at that time, had to stand on a wooden crate in order to aim over the shooting counter.

Lance concentrated on the orange targets, as they appeared, nodding at the advice on aiming and overcoming recoil. In his first practice session, he may have missed many shots, but gained invaluable experience in becoming a proficient marksman…

He rolled to his left as a streak of orange passed overhead. Bringing up his gun, his fingers slid into the trigger guard as he prepared to fire… when yet another body flew over his head, rolling on the forest floor before straightening up almost instantly.

Stunned by this unexpected appearance, Lance whipped his gun around, training on its midsection when he noticed: the seal each Specialist got to distinguish friend from foe. It even gave of a unique heat signature for Lance to detect. This seal belonged to Anna, the youngest member of the team. The beast she was following gave a primeval cry and escaped into the depths of the forest.

Lance lowered his gun as Anna helped him onto his feet. Fortunately he hadn't fired a shot, but even if he did the suit was well equipped to protect Anna anyway.

"What are you doing out here?" Lance demanded, though in a joking manner.

"Practising my powers," Anna replied with a shrug. "I haven't had a live target to practice on for some time now… so…"

It was understandable for her to want to get outside. She rarely had a living being willing to be subject to her powers; it took some time for Lance to build robots for her to train on. Still, she had tremendous potential with her powers…

"We're leaving in the morning. Get some rest, okay?"

"Um… right…" Lance turned upon her reply, ready to take off back towards the mansion. "Wait, Lance!" Lance turned back at his sister, as she rushed beside him. "I kinda lost my way back there. Can you bring me back as well?"

Lance smiled, nodding as he led the way back, with Anna beside him. The duo reached the mansion in a matter of minutes. Anna raced ahead towards the open door, and before Lance entered the mansion, he looked east where the Metroville suburbia was.

'We're coming to find you…" he whispered before he entered, locking the door behind him.

End notes: Well… that was a long chapter! I had wanted to include this part of the story into the main section, but never got a chance to, as it would make the story really long-winded, and it's much better to have it in this form.

As usual, comment in reviews please. By the way, if you're new to the story or haven't reviewed thus far, please take a look at the main story too. I still need a lot of work on the main section. Thanks!

I'll post up the next chapter in a few weeks. I actually have them all written, but I'll hold them back for a while.